


things change; sometimes for the better

by elvesarebad



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F, Murder, Present Tense, creepy behaviour from peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 18:19:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elvesarebad/pseuds/elvesarebad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>lydia asks allison to help her kill peter</p>
            </blockquote>





	things change; sometimes for the better

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: originally on tumblr and for allydia, who gave me the prompt - actually being friends with bonus making out at the end; allison's pov. set after s2 finale, does not care about s3.

allison’s cleaning her knives at her desk – her father has refused to replace either her crossbow or her compound bow but she’ll be damned if she goes anywhere without a weapon, especially with peter hale still at large – when there’s a light tap on her partially closed door and then her dad walks in, followed by lydia martin. allison smooths her expression into one of polite interest, masking her surprise at lydia’s presence. they haven’t spoken since – allison blinks, a tiny movement no one notices – she can’t actually remember when they last spoke. she knows that the last words they spoke were probably lies.

“your friend’s here,” dad says with a smile and allison fights the urge to roll her eyes. like she can’t see that for herself, and she can already feel him hoping this means she’ll go back to having a semi-normal life. like that’s ever going to be possible.

lydia nods at her, hands clasped in front of her. there’s something in lydia’s eyes that tells allison that she’s not as deluded as her dad. lydia heads over to allison’s bed and sits on the edge.

dad stands there for what seems like forever. “yes, dad?” allison says finally, trying not to sigh.

“i’ll be leaving then,” he says quickly, rubbing the back of his head in a way that seems too awkward. everything has felt awkward, ever since her mom died. it’s like when she died, she left a space, a gaping maw, and no matter what they do, there’s no way to fill it. and somehow it keeps getting bigger the more they try to fill it and now it feels like there’s a huge chasm between them. “you girls have fun,” he adds, hesitating where he stands. allison gives him a smile – it stretches her lips in a way that feels fake – but he seems to accept it and then he’s leaving them, the door ajar behind him.

allison goes back to cleaning her knives – she’s on the last one and it’s better to finish them now, rather than forget about it later and be forced to use a blunt knife in a fight, not that she’ll ever be in a fight, the way her dad’s treating her – and she doesn’t glance up from her task once. she can almost feel lydia gazing around the room, taking in the blank walls, the empty desk allison’s sitting at, spreading her hands over the dull bedspread underneath her. allison can’t bear to put up her pictures or bring some colour back to her room – it reminds her too much of her old life, when her mom and kate were still alive. and yet she can’t bear to get rid of them completely, tear up all of that useless stuff – her sad attempts at poetry, at watercolours, at photography – and dump it in the garbage where it belongs. she tried to do it once, to prove she could, but her hands started to shake and her eyes filled with tears, although they didn’t fall, and so she stuffed them all in one box and shoved it under her bed. for some reason knowing it was there, under her bed where she’d thought there were monsters once, helped her sleep at night.

shaking her head to clear it of these thoughts, allison slides the whetstone over the blade of the knife, once, twice more, and then tests the edge with a finger. she’s done it so many times now she doesn’t cut herself like she did the first five times. smiling a little, she places the knife next to its fellows in the black casing and wraps them up, snug and safe.

“what do you want, lydia?” she asks finally, still not looking at her. instead, allison stares at the black knife casing and slides her hands over the material, feeling the shapes of the knives underneath.

a hand grabs her chin and pulls her around to face lydia’s glare. “you’ll look me in the eye when i say this, allison,” lydia says, and her voice is quiet and soft and angry. allison’s never really seen lydia angry  - her green eyes flash and her mouth is set in a tight, thin line, her grip on allison’s chin is hard, her nails digging into allison’s skin – so for a few seconds all allison can do is stare up at her, eyes wide with surprise.

and then allison snaps out of it and shoves lydia’s hand away, standing up in the same movement. “we’re not friends anymore, lydia,” she says and – and she’s surprised at how bitter she sounds, like she regrets it.

lydia snorts. “well, that’s true,” she sneers. when allison looks over at her, lydia’s glaring at her, arms crossed tightly over her chest. allison can see her fingernails digging into her arms. “ _friends_ ,” she spits, like it’s an ugly word and she wants to get out as quickly as possible, “don’t lie to you repeatedly, and they sure as hell don’t slap you in the face when you want to talk, they don’t—”

“fine!” allison yells. eyes wide, lydia takes an involuntary step back and then realises what she’s done. she glares at allison and takes several steps forward. allison matches her glare for glare. “if all you’ve come to do is yell at me for being a bad friend, then congratulations!” allison throws up her hands, mouth twisting into a cruel smile she knows she’d rather not see looking back at her from the mirror. “you’ve succeeded, well done!” she glares at lydia for a few seconds more and then turns away. “now, get out.”

minutes pass and allison can still feel lydia behind her, can hear her breathe in and out, like she’s trying to calm herself. “i didn’t come to yell at you,” lydia says, and her voice is ice cold. allison can practically feel the icicles form around the words. “i came to ask for your help.”

allison stands there for a second, staring blankly at the wall where her megan fox poster used to be – she can still see the slight fade in the paint around its ghost edges – and then she slowly turns around. “you want my help?” she asks, incredulous.

“yes,” lydia says, smoothing her hands down her dress with hands that shake slightly.

“what for?” allison waits for lydia to say something like  _for a party, obviously, no one gets me quite like you do,_ and  _you’ve learned it’s useless to argue with me_. she’s opening her mouth to say no, she’s not in the mood, she doesn’t care, they aren’t friends when lydia surprises her for what seems like the third time that day.

“i want you to help me kill peter hale.”

lydia’s voice has thawed slightly, no longer as cold but there’s still a chill to the words that might have more to do with content than tone. she says them calmly and clearly and allison notices her hands have stopped shaking. they’re loose at her sides and her shoulders are relaxed. it’s as though a burden has been lifted from them. allison’s not at all surprised when lydia smiles, and for the fourth time that day she’s surprised to recognise it from her own face, looking at herself in the mirror as she prepared to hunt down the betas and derek, although it looks slightly different on lydia. soft, where allison’s was hard, no teeth, where allison had bared them (to help her gather courage perhaps – she tries not to think about it). but it’s still the same smile.

“what makes you think i’ll help you do that?” allison replies, trying to shake off the surprise, distract herself from the similarities.

lydia’s smile this time is sweet, almost too sweet. “you owe me,” she says, the words dripping from her lips like honey.

allison shakes her head. “if i’m such a bad friend, why me?” she takes a step back, as though keeping enough distance between them will dissuade lydia from asking again. an idea occurs to her and she adds, “why not stiles? you two seem...” she trails off as lydia shakes her head.

“he’ll think it means something it doesn’t,” lydia tells her patiently. “besides, you have the skills i need if i want to do this right.” her eyes are hard and cold when she looks at allison, her smile the one from before, the one allison recognises as her own. allison digs her nails into the palms of her hands, hoping the pain will distract her from the guilt. this isn’t the lydia she remembers, this is a stranger. and it’s  _her_ fault.

“what will i get out of it?” allison asks, even though she can already feel herself giving in. she blames the guilt, and her innate weakness. her mom would have turned lydia away by now, with a polite smile and denial on her tongue. kate might have said yes, but kate’s actions became suspect the moment it was discovered she’d burnt down a house with children inside, for all that they were the children of werewolves.

“a dead werewolf,” lydia says lightly but her voice shakes ever so slightly on the word  _werewolf_. “you’re a hunter now, right?” she shrugs. “and you won’t owe me anymore.”

they stare at each other as the silence stretches on. and then allison breaks it with a sigh and a muttered, “fine, i’ll help you.”

lydia beams at her. “fantastic!” she eyes allison, gaze sliding up and down, taking in allison’s outfit. and then she’s striding over to allison’s closet and throwing the doors open wide. with a disappointed sigh, she sorts through them, pushing them this way and that. “i’m sorry, allison,” she says eventually, “but your wardrobe is just too depressing. all this black!” she pulls a jacket out and presses it to her chest, turning around for allison to look at it. she gives her a mournful look. “really, allison? really? weren’t you listening when i said to never, ever buy this jacket?” she shakes her head before allison can say a word. “apparently not.”

dropping the jacket on the floor, she reaches in and picks shirts, dresses, and jackets out seemingly at random – although allison’s aware there’s some kind of bizarro reasoning, she just can’t see it – and chucking them on top of the first jacket. “okay, these all have to go,” she says firmly as she drops one last multi-coloured wool dress on the pile.

allison stands there, stunned. she’s aware she’s gaping but she can’t help it. a corner of her mouth twitches up as she peers into her closet. there are two pairs of jeans and a black dress left. “lydia,” she begins.

lydia puts her hands on her hips and stares down at the pile. “okay, before we start this whole training thing, we  _have to_ buy you new clothes,” she says, tapping the tip of her black high heels against the carpet. “i’m not being trained by someone with poor taste, that’s just not something i’m prepared to do.”

allison almost laughs but she turns it into a polite cough just in time. “well, since you’ve pretty much said no to all of my clothes, including the ones i use when i’m training, i guess we’ll have to. i’d rather not do it naked.” allison sounds polite and calm and reasonable to her own ears but lydia narrows her eyes, like she’s aware allison’s making fun of her.

“good, glad we agree,” lydia says slowly.

allison’s mouth quivers.

\-----------

they spend a week buying allison a new wardrobe, using her dad’s credit card. he’d seemed so happy she was apparently getting back to a semi-normal life he’d given up the card without a fuss. allison feels slightly guilty for the bill he’ll get – they don’t just buy clothes for allison, lydia insists on buying herself some ‘training gear’ as well, although allison thankfully dissuades her from getting the useless, decorative stuff. however, this means that they get the expensive, well-made stuff, adding to allison’s guilt, although not by much. these shopping trips are actually the most fun she’s had since, well, their last shopping trip before the winter formal.

on monday of the next week, they’re to start the actual training. part of allison – the small part impatient with lydia, suspicious that she’s putting things off, that she’s not truly serious about what she wants to do – is eager for the training to start as soon as possible. spending time with lydia means she finds herself sliding easily back into her old life, into bad habits. sometimes she finds herself grinning, happy and carefree, as lydia sneers at other customers and exchanges in-jokes with smirking shop assistants, and she cuts herself off, the grin vanishing so quickly as if it had almost never been there at all. this is just her paying her debts, it doesn’t mean anything other than that – after peter hale is dead, they’ll go back to being not-friends and allison can concentrate on strengthening herself, mind and body, until there’s no weakness left, no crack someone can exploit for their own ends. no one will be able to betray her ever again.

“allison, stop frowning, you’re putting everyone off their food.” lydia’s calm voice, with a slight undercurrent of annoyance, breaks through her thoughts and she looks up to see that the tables surrounding them are empty. lydia takes a delicate sip from her coke.

“who cares what they think?” allison asks with a barely concealed sigh. she picks at her fries, biting one and then dropping it back on the tray. it’s covered with half eaten fries and a burger than sits there, slowly growing colder.

lydia eyes allison’s tray. “i do,” she replies.

“why?” and it comes out more harshly than allison intends. lydia flinches and it’s like allison can’t stop herself—no, that’s a lie, she could, she just doesn’t want to. she wants to pick lydia apart, tear down this cheerful, wicked facade and explore the weakness beneath. because then maybe she’ll find what makes her tick, maybe she’ll find the key to keeping everything concealed beneath a mask of pretty clothes and pink lipstick.

“why do you care what they think? they obviously couldn’t care less about you.”

the words are out now, hanging in the air between them, and allison can’t take them back. she wants to – suddenly, guilty – because lydia looks broken for a second, her green eyes too big and bright in a suddenly pale face. underneath the table, allison digs her nails into her legs, hoping the pain will outweigh the guilt. lydia will just have to learn what allison has – you can’t count on anyone but yourself.

scott’s face flashes briefly in her mind but she shoves it away as soon as it appears, shoves it deep down where she’s buried all of her memories of him. they leave her open and vulnerable and she—can’t have that.

lydia slowly rises to her feet, chair scraping against the floor as she pushes it back. “well, if you’re going to be a bitch about it,” she says slowly, her voice chilly enough to raise goosebumps on allison’s arms. lydia’s eyes are so cold allison feels herself turning to ice just looking at them. she tries to look away but she can’t.

“i don’t need your help,” lydia tells her calmly. “i can do this by myself.” there’s something in her eyes then – a moment of doubt perhaps? – and it gives allison the opportunity to look away. she doesn’t, though, just keeps staring up at her. her face feels cold but when she looks at herself in the mirror behind lydia, her cheeks are a dark pink.

“yes, you probably can,” allison finds herself saying, still half staring at herself. she blinks and shifts her gaze to lydia. there’s surprise in her eyes now, like she hadn’t expected allison to say anything except  _good riddance_. the air is still somewhat cold between them but it’s warming up. “but it’ll go faster if you have help.”

lydia sits back down, slowly. “are you offering?” lydia asks after a few seconds where she seemed to be searching allison’s face. she’d kept it blank – at least she hoped she had – but lydia seemed to have found whatever she’d been looking for. there’s a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth and allison’s heart beats double time at the sight. “you don’t have to,” lydia adds when allison says nothing.

allison raises an eyebrow and twirls her red and white straw around her full cup of diet sprite. “i thought i owed you?”

“you still do,” lydia says, tapping her nail against the lip of her own cup. “but i won’t force you to help me.”

“then why did we just spend a week shopping for my new wardrobe?” allison asks, frowning. she’d spent most of the time being annoyed and frustrated – no, that was a lie – and she could have just said no?

lydia smirks at her. “oh no, that was for your own good. i couldn’t let you go back to school wearing what you had.” with a saintly expression, she places one hand over her heart and sighs. “i don’t turn away anyone who needs my help.”

allison flinches visibly and her gaze skitters over lydia, catches her own gaze in the mirror behind her. she really wishes they’d chosen a different spot, at the very least one where she could have her back to that mirror. it showed her far more than she wanted to know. when she looks at lydia again, there’s a tiny triumphant spark in her eye and in the twist of her mouth.

allison glares at her. “fine,” she snaps. “fine, i’ll help you and after he’s dead i owe you nothing and we never see each other again, deal?”

“well, that’s going to be hard, seeing as we go to the same school,” lydia reminds her as she examines a perfect pink nail. allison tries not to look at her own bitten down nails, red and covered in chipped, faded pink polish – probably lydia’s actually, one she left behind after a sleepover, when they’d stay up late doing each other’s make-up, lydia ordering her to keep still and stop giggling as she carefully applied eyeliner or the pink nail polish.

“fine, we won’t interact,” allison says sharply.

lydia rests her chin on one hand. “what if we’re paired up in chemistry?” her tone is so innocent allison’s already growling a reply before she notices the smile tucked in the corner of lydia’s mouth.

“why do you do that?” she asks hopelessly, not excepting an answer. her shoulders slump because she’s given up trying to fight this.

“do what? i’m just being myself, allison, you can’t fault me for that.” lydia smiles at her now, and it’s a genuine smile – allison’s seen her fake one, her cold one, the one that reminds allison scarily of her own, but this one is...it reminds allison of the day lydia had come over with a bag of make-up and a pile of rom coms, declaring as she entered allison’s bedroom that tonight was girl’s night, no interruptions, no boys – “just us girls,” she’d said, and there was that smile because allison had bowed her head, dropped her pen, and grinned up at her and lydia had smiled back and everything felt right and good. and she’d never felt like that, outside of her time with scott, where it was okay to relax and just be herself and enjoy what she liked, deep down, because there was no judgement – if anything, there was agreement, and it hadn’t felt like a weakness to enjoy this. it kind of felt like the opposite.

allison smiles at her, tries to make it seem reluctant rather than involuntary but it’s sort of hard when her heart’s beating loudly in her chest, thump thump thump.

“so,” lydia says as she begins to stand up, tray in her hands. “will you help me?”

allison sighs. “i said i would, didn’t i?”

“with stipulations,” lydia reminds her as they head to the bins.

allison watches her tip the rubbish on her tray into the bin and then does the same with her tray. “we’re not friends,” allison says, but there’s a hint of doubt even to her own ears.

“no,” lydia agrees, stacking their trays on top of the bin. allison’s hand brushes lydia’s briefly as she takes allison’s tray from her. lydia doesn’t seem to notice but allison pulls her hand away as if the touch burned. her skin tingles where they touched and she rubs it absently. “but we could be, after peter’s dead.”

“bonding over killing a guy,” allison says slowly.

“misandry for life.” when allison looks at her, a question in her eyes, lydia grins. “it should be our motto.”

allison tries not to smile but it’s a close thing. “i think you’re getting ahead of yourself. we haven’t done it yet.”

lydia’s grin vanishes to be replaced by a grim expression. her eyes are cold again and allison shivers a little, whether in anticipation or fear she doesn’t know. “we will,” lydia says softly. “we will.”

\----------

it’s been three and a half weeks and allison shouldn’t be surprised at the progress lydia has made, but she is. two days ago, she managed to topple allison, keeping her face down on the floor for five minutes with a knee pressed hard into the small of allison’s back. it had only been when she’d leaned down, confident that she had allison pinned, and whispered, her smirk pressed against allison’s ear, “how do you like that?” that allison was able to make her move.

she’d smiled cheerfully against the carpet and elbowed lydia in the stomach. even before lydia had finished gasping, allison had her pinned down, wrists held over her head one-handed as she wrapped her other hand around lydia’s neck, gently pressing down. “better,” allison had murmured, “but not the best.” lydia had stared up at her, breathing heavily – allison kept her eyes trained on lydia’s face, gaze never wavering – and then she smiled, no teeth, sweet and pretty.

allison pretends that smile has no effect on her. because it doesn’t.

lydia’s better at hand-to-hand combat than she is at using knives. after each session, allison uses the balm kate had given her years ago on a birthday – well, not the same one, that was long gone, but every pharmacy she’d come across sold it – and rubs it over each of lydia’s cuts, after a thorough wash. lydia winces occasionally but otherwise she’s silent, just watches as allison applies it. allison has the feeling she could do it herself but she lets allison do it because—allison doesn’t think about that.

today allison is waiting for lydia to arrive for their session, fussing about the room picking up clothes and then dropping them in a different location. she’s making the mess worse in her efforts to be tidy and when she realises this, she sighs and sits on the edge of her bed. downstairs she can hear a soft murmur of voices as her dad talks with some fellow hunters. he won’t let her take part in the meetings but she’s become pretty efficient at eavesdropping. she knows there’s something called an alpha pack – that seems like a bad idea just waiting to happen, but what does she know – in town and they’re being watched closely. so far they haven’t done anything except menace a few people at a local gas station but that doesn’t mean they aren’t planning something.

allison doesn’t know what her dad thinks of lydia’s visits. from the way he smiles at her, warm and happy, she doesn’t think he knows she’s training lydia to kill peter. she thinks—she  _knows_ he’d stop them if he did. he’s become more controlling after what happened with gerard. she knows he does it to protect her but instead she feels stifled and caged, sometimes she feels like she can’t breathe. she looks around and he’s there – or someone she recognises as one of the hunters. she’d seen them around the mall when she and lydia had gone shopping. confronting him about it seemed pointless – he’d only deny it, or try to reason his way out of it – so she’d ignored it and pretended it wasn’t happening. he thinks she’s safe in the house, under his watchful eye, but he hasn’t been as vigilant as he could be.

for some reason, she reaches under her bed and retrieves the box with all the trivial activities she’d tried her hand at. there’s a pile of photographs tucked in the corner on top of the poetry she tries not to look at. these photographs aren’t done by her, they’re not black and white and anyway she’s in them. the one on top is one of her and her mom. she’s tucked against her mom, who has an arm wrapped around her. in the photo she’s smiling and allison traces her mouth. it’s genuine – she remembers the day, laughing til she was breathless, her grin a mile wide, as her dad took the picture. she still remembers the feel of her mom next to her, can almost smell her perfume – nothing too strong, just a light scent, vanilla she thinks – and she’s wiping tears from her eyes, sniffling a little bit.

someone puts a hand on her shoulder and squeezes. allison lifts her head quickly and looks up into lydia’s face, her eyes full of sympathy allison’s not ready to see. allison looks away and shoves the photo under the pile, shoulders stiff enough that lydia eventually takes the hint and pulls her hand away.

and then she’s reaching past allison into the box and lifting out a photo, so quickly allison’s unable to stop her. “what’s this?” she asks, sounding surprised—and pleased, allison doesn’t know why, and she doesn’t care.

“nothing,” allison snaps, snatching the picture from her without looking at it. “it’s stupid.”

lydia’s face is closed off when allison looks up at her. “fine,” she says stiffly and then she turns and leaves the room.

frowning, allison watches her leave before she glances down at the picture scrunched in her hand. it’s one her mom took, of allison and lydia smiling at each other. she remembers that day, when her mom had taken them to the mall for a girls only shopping trip – even though allison had rolled her eyes and said she didn’t have to, and lydia had watched them argue back and forth, no real fire to it, and smiled and shrugged when allison had turned an inquiring, almost pleading look in her direction. she’d complained when she saw her mom take the picture, snapping it as she and lydia had been enjoying a mom-free moment while they ate lunch by the fountain. absently, her fingers trace lydia’s shape in the photograph and she sighs.

and then she’s cursing herself and rushing downstairs, hoping lydia hasn’t left yet. rushing past her dad, ignoring his raised hand and half-asked question, she hurtles out of the door. lydia’s green bug is still parked on the side of the road. allison sags with relief against the doorframe. she can see lydia in the driver’s seat, hands gripping the steering wheel, but she hasn’t left yet, she hasn’t left yet. and allison’s suddenly grinning as she strides over to lydia’s car and taps on the window.

lydia jumps and turns to glare at her. “go away,” she mouths.

allison shakes her head and motions for lydia to roll down the window. lydia glares at her for several minutes – allison shifts, slightly, beginning to get impatient – and then allison can see she sighs. the window rolls down slowly, as though she’s making a point. now that there’s a glimmer of hope, allison waits patiently for the window to roll all the way down.

“what?” lydia snaps. “i was just leaving.”

allison ignores that blatant lie. “do you want to know what else is in that box?” she asks, shading her eyes to peer in at lydia.

lydia hesitates, tapping her nails against the steering wheel as she tries to make up her mind. eventually she sighs gustily and goes to open the door. allison step back as she gets out of the car, slamming the door behind her. “five minutes,” lydia warns her as they walk back into the house. “that’s all you’re getting.”

allison pretends she believes her but she fears the smile curling her mouth up at the corner betrays her disbelief.

the box is sitting on her bed, where she left it. she knows she shouldn’t have left it out in the open – her dad could have looked through it – but she’d had other thoughts on her mind. allison picks up the box and sits in its place, resting it in her lap. lydia sits down next to her, careful to keep an inch or two between them so they’re not touching.

allison’s hands rest against the soft cardboard sides of the box. “this is—i put things in here that i can’t bear to throw away,” she says after a long moment of silence. lydia never once fidgets or mentions the whole five minutes thing, as though she knows how important this is. “they’re—there’s no point to them and, well, the poetry’s terrible,” she laughs hurriedly, as though it doesn’t matter at all, “but they remind me of—a different life.” she stops there, she doesn’t really know if she’s explaining this right or well at all. swallowing nervously, she begins again, “i—they’re a distraction,” she says firmly, and then she hesitates because it’s kind of obvious she lets them distract her, keeping them around like this. “i don’t want to throw them away.”

she closes her mouth and bows her head over the box. her hands clench around the corners, nails digging into the cardboard. she and lydia aren’t friends, not anymore, and allison flinches inwardly at how weak she’s making herself look.

lydia moves over until they’re pressed together, no space between them. allison’s breath catches and suddenly all she can think of is lydia’s thigh pressed against hers. their elbows touch and it’s sort of awkward, allison probably has to move soon but she doesn’t want to. their arms are mostly uncovered as they’re wearing t-shirts, touching like this is going to turn sticky and hot and uncomfortable in the summer heat. and allison’s aware of all of this but somehow lydia’s presence at her side is comforting and kind of a turn-on, from the way her heart is beating fast in her chest, against her wrist, in her ears.

“so,” lydia says, and she’s so close it feels like she says it directly into allison’s ear. “when do we start the knife training? i’ll only get better with practice.” out of the corner of her eye, allison sees her roll her eyes. the way she says it, with a hint of sarcasm, allison knows she’s being made fun of. those words have come out of her mouth enough times for her to recognise them.

“that’s true,” allison replies, very serious. she’s smiling though, and when lydia looks at her, there’s an answering smile on her face. “we best get to work then.”

lydia groans loudly but she gets to her feet anyway. “more scars, oh joy,” she mutters.

“you should be glad,” allison responds immediately, like she always does, as she retrieves her knife collection from her desk drawer.

“oh, can’t you tell? i’m just radiating happiness.” lydia rolls her eyes and accepts a knife from allison, hilt first, flipping it and grabbing it by the handle.

allison beams. “someone’s been practising.”

“of course,” lydia replies promptly, “you’d give me such a spanking if i didn’t.” she’s smirking at allison as she says it, although her voice sounds as innocent as it can possibly be without sounding trite. allison suddenly feels hot all over and tries not to let it bother her.

shaking her head to clear it of superfluous nonsense, allison readies herself. “who knows, i might still have to,” she finds herself saying, cursing inwardly and telling herself she cannot curl up and die of embarrassment, not yet anyway.

lydia smirks. “i’ll make you work for it.”

allison blinks, taken by surprise, and that’s when lydia strikes, feinting left. allison goes to block her without thinking and finds herself being attacked from the right. blinking down at the thin red cut on her upper arm, allison glances up at lydia. “you have been practising!” she says with a grin.

lydia immediately lowers her guard, shoulders relaxing as she smiles and opens her mouth to reply. allison grins evilly and lydia only just manages to block her. they’re so close, locked together, that allison wants to do something reckless, like kiss her – she glances down at lydia’s mouth quickly, pink and wet – and then shakes the idea away.

“you’re so mean,” lydia says with a pout as she tries to push allison away.

allison grins at her, pushing back. “knives aren’t for nice people.”

“good thing i’m not nice,” lydia replies, stepping aside suddenly. allison stumbles forward and brings her knife up just in time to deflect the one lydia send directly toward her face. panting, allison is about to step back and review her options when she feels something prick her belly. glancing down,  she finds lydia has a second knife aimed at her, its point pressing lightly against her.

“wow,” allison says, awed.

lydia smiles at her, almost goofy, showing teeth in a way that’s just happy and not an intimidation tactic. allison returns the smile and takes a step back, drawing her second knife from where it’s strapped to her waist. lydia makes a noise, like she’s disgusted – with herself or with allison, allison can’t tell but she grins nonetheless.

“so mean,” lydia says with another pout and then she’s lunging forward, bringing her first knife back into play as well. allison parries both strikes and suddenly it turns into a dance – back and forth, neither winning any ground, movements sure and steady. lydia likes to make hard strikes, trying to jar a knife out of allison’s hand and although it’s an amateur move, lydia does it well enough that allison ends up dropping a knife. she replaces it with her third immediately, kicking the knife away under her desk so that lydia can’t get to it. and then they’re back to the dance, both breathing heavily now. allison’s distracted a few times by the sight of lydia’s boobs, or the strands of red that stick to her face, and lydia takes full advantage of every opportunity.

when they finally finish, with no clear winner, they’re both sweating and grinning. allison flops onto the bed and lydia drops down beside her, over her arm, her head resting on allison’s shoulder. allison knows if lydia doesn’t move soon her arm’s going to go numb but she can’t be bothered to move it. she can feel each cut and bruise, knows they should apply kate’s balm, but again she just can’t be bothered moving, not with lydia pressed against her, her breathing slowly evening out.

“i think you’re almost ready,” allison says quietly. she has no idea what makes her say it and she curses whatever it is because it breaks the comfortable silence between them into a million pieces. she feels lydia freeze beside her and then she watches her sit up, getting further and further away.

“almost?” lydia says. she seems to be staring at the wall but allison’s sure she can see something else. peter on the end of her knife, begging for his life, perhaps.

allison hesitates. “a week, maybe a week and a half.”

“okay,” lydia says, and she’s cold again. allison wonders if she touched her now, would she feel ice instead of flesh.

“do you want to stay for dinner?” allison blurts out suddenly, wanting lydia to be warm and pressed against her again. although how a dinner invitation could achieve this, she doesn’t know.

lydia turns around to face her. she’s smiling but it’s an odd one, like she can’t quite believe what she’s hearing. “aww, allison, it’s almost like you want to be friends.” her voice sounds odd too but allison can’t place why.

allison opens her mouth and then closes it before she embarrasses herself. “no, of course not,” she says quickly. lydia’s smile, odd though it was, vanishes. “i mean, if you want to,” allison adds just as quickly, almost tripping over the words in her haste to get them out before lydia thinks to leave. “i wouldn’t mind.”

lydia’s smile returns, but this one is soft. “maybe another time.”

allison tries not to feel disappointed. it’s better this way, she tells herself firmly, with no effect.

\---------------

“so what’s the deal with you and scott?” lydia asks a week later as they collapse onto allison’s bed after a gruelling training session.

allison doesn’t register the question at first. she’s too busy paying far too much attention to lydia – glorious, beautiful lydia martin, face red and chest heaving – but eventually she manages to stammer out, “i could ask you the same thing.”

lydia frowns at her. “i’m not dating scott,” she reminds her.

“no, i mean,” allison takes a deep breath and lets it out in a whoosh, “you and jackson.”

lydia waves a hand, like she’s waving away the matter, like it’s not important. “oh, that.”

“did you break up?” allison asks curiously. she links her fingers over her belly and tries not to think bad, jealous thoughts about jackson falling down a hole and never being heard from again. she has no claim on lydia – they’re barely friends – and even if she did, lydia would insist on doing whatever she wanted, whether allison liked it or not.

lydia wrinkles her nose. “sort of?” she says. she doesn’t sound very interested. “we never really got back together.”

allison frowns. “but,” she begins.

“yeah, the thing about jackson is that he treats every emotional reaction like a personal failing,” lydia tells her, yawning half way through the sentence. allison feels her smile against her arm. “sort of like you.”

“i’m nothing like jackson,” allison retorts, starting to sit up so she can stare angrily down at lydia’s boo—her face. yes. right. lydia places a hand on her arm and pushes her back down gently.

“okay, you’re nothing like jackson,” lydia says placidly. “now tell me about you and scott.”

allison stares at the ceiling. “i broke up with him.” she says the words quietly and they feel more real as she says them, as though the situation wasn’t really real until she’d said them. and now they’re said and she can’t take them back and she doesn’t know if she wants to now. she sighs. “he thinks we’re going to get back together.”

“are you?” there’s no judgement, no pressure, in lydia’s voice, just curiosity.

allison hesitates. truth be told, she doesn’t know. maybe, sometime in the future, but not now. it hits her then, how different she feels now, about their relationship. she’d loved him so much, in that they’ll be together forever, come what may kind of way, and there it was, the past tense. she knows she still loves him, but enough for them to put aside everything that had gone before and get back together? it’s not the same now and maybe, sometime in the future, they’ll date again, different people but still in love and maybe it would work out and maybe it wouldn’t but that was a distant time in the future. right now...allison shakes her head. “i don’t think so.”

“okay,” lydia murmurs, nuzzling allison’s shoulder and yawning again.

“you should leave,” allison tells her quietly.

she can feel it when lydia grins. “is that dinner invitation still open?”

allison tries to ignore the sudden flurry of butterflies in her stomach. “of course.”

“then i’m staying. for now.” lydia stretches, holding her body taunt for a second before she relaxes with a sigh. allison goes to get the balm and a wet facecloth. when she returns, she rolls lydia’s shorts up and presses the facecloth against a cut just above lydia’s knee, wiping it clean. she applies the balm, acutely aware that lydia is watching her do it. apparently the cut looks worse than it is because lydia doesn’t flinch once.

“i think that’s the only time you got me,” lydia says proudly.

“good for you,” allison says absently. she realises she’s still rubbing her fingers in circles over the cut and removes her hands instantly, wiping them on the wet facecloth.

“let me do you,” lydia says eagerly, sitting up. allison stares at her for a second and tries not to blush. reluctantly, she hands lydia the facecloth and the container of balm, her blush deepening as their hands touch, even though she tells it not to in her sternest internal voice. she holds out her hand, back up, so lydia can see the red scratch she left behind after a rather daring move that resulted in allison being disarmed for the first time in their dance today. 

lydia takes her hand and wipes the facecloth over the scratch. allison winces because it stings. lydia snorts. “you big baby,” she says but her voice is gentle and so is her touch as she applies the balm to the scratch. allison makes a noise in the back of her throat and tries to remember how to breathe.

“there,” lydia says as she drops allison’s hand like it’s on fire. the smile she shows allison seems plastered on and fake. “good as new.”

“well, almost,” allison says, looking at the scratch and pretending to ignore lydia’s sudden mood change.

“so, what’s for dinner?” lydia asks brightly. a little too brightly, but allison decides to ignore that too.

allison shrugs. her dad told her before lydia arrived that he’d be late home and that she should order something for herself. well, he’d said  _make_ something but she decided she could take creative license in this one time. “takeout?”

lydia sighs and rests her chin in her hands, elbows on her knees. “but what takeout?” she asks innocently. “come on, i want to know. it’s for research purposes.”

allison snorts. “you just want to know if i remember your favourite.”

“well?” lydia asks, still too brightly. “do you?”

“of course,” allison says immediately, heaving a put-upon sigh. “it’s thai, and you order the same dish every time. and no, don’t ask me what that is,” she adds, holding up a hand as lydia starts to speak. “i wrote it down in case i did forget.”

she kneels down beside the bed and pulls out her box. rummaging through it, moving and making as much noise as possible, allison pretends she doesn’t know exactly where the crumpled piece of paper with lydia’s order written on it in her semi-terrible handwriting is. she smooths it out and looks up at lydia.

lydia is giving her an odd look, like she can’t quite figure allison out, but it’s gone immediately when allison looks at her. she almost thinks she imagined it. “here it is,” allison says with a smile.

lydia returns the smile, and there’s something soft in her eyes that makes allison catch her breath for a second. ducking her head, allison stares down at the piece of torn notepad paper and smooths it out again. it feels rough against her fingers, the opposite of what she knows lydia’s hands feel like on hers.

“did you want me to order, or are you going to?” lydia asks patiently.

“i—of course,” allison says hurriedly, grabbing for the phone on her bedside table. she’d brought it in here from the living room in case her dad called and needed help. it’s obviously a remote possibility but allison had been raised to be prepared – she’d thought, before, for any situation but then she’d found out how wrong she was.

she can feel lydia watching her as she waits for the restaurant to pick up, and as she orders the food. her voice is a bit too high and she sounds nervous. crossing her legs underneath her and then uncrossing them again a second later. the woman on the other end repeats her order back to her, distracting her for a few seconds, but then the woman asks for a payment option.

“i’ll pay,” lydia says and allison glances up to find her lying on her belly on the bed, arms crossed in front of her, her chin resting on her hands. allison swallows nervously and stammers the answer into the phone, handing it over quickly to lydia who calmly recites her credit card number into the receiver.

“and that should arrive in half an hour to forty five minutes,” the woman says automatically. allison mumbles something, probably agreement, and the woman hangs up. allison drops the phone into her lap and sighs.

“you’re nervous,” lydia says, positively gleeful. her eyes gleam and she’s grinning, showing teeth. not that she is, but the sight of that grin would have made allison far more nervous than she was.

“no, i’m not,” allison snaps, glaring up at her.

lydia just raises an eyebrow. “sure, sure.”

“i’m not,” allison insists, trying to ignore the feeling that she’s making things worse.

they fall into not quite comfortable silence – lydia examines her nails, muttering something about getting a manicure, and allison spends the time looking everywhere except in lydia’s direction. allison knows she’s being obvious – at least she thinks she is, maybe she isn’t, lydia hasn’t said a word. maybe it’s all in her head, maybe it’s one-sided—and none of this matters, after peter is dead, they’ll go their separate ways, interacting only when absolutely necessary. and these feelings would pass, as they must, or she’d bury them until it was like they’d never existed at all.

the doorbell ringing downstairs snaps her out of her thoughts – unhappy, but comforting in a strange way – and she gets to her feet. “i’ll get the plates,” lydia says, following her downstairs and heading toward the kitchen. allison doesn’t watch her go, only opens the door and takes the containers from the delivery boy with a smile that feels fake. the delivery boy gives her a smile just as fake and turns away. she closes the door after him, trying to hold the containers in a way that doesn’t burn her fingers too much.

in the kitchen, allison hands a container to lydia, who swaps it for a spoon. again allison tries to ignore the fleeting touch of their fingers as she scoops her meal from its container onto the plate. steam rises from it and she bends down to take a deep breath of it, eyes closed, unaware she’s smiling. when she straightens, lydia is giving her that odd look again. but as fast as before, it vanishes and allison’s left with the feeling she imagined it. it’s an unsettling feeling.

they eat their meal at the dining room table and allison spends the entirety of it wondering what made her think this wouldn’t be anything other than awkward.

“i’m ready, aren’t i,” lydia says quietly as she washes the dishes and allison dries.

allison freezes, hands in the middle of drying a plate. she stares at the clean white circle in her hands and tries to stop it from shaking. “yes.” the word sounds like it’s dragged from her, she almost chokes on it.

lydia breathes out slowly. “would you come with me when i...” she hesitates, can’t say the words now, and then they rush out, “kill peter?”

“i thought that was the idea,” allison says brightly, too bright, like lydia had been. she smiles when lydia looks at her, trying to be reassuring, but she’s not sure if she succeeds. she’d always thought, deep down, that lydia would do this on her own.

lydia looks relieved for a second and then it’s gone, smoothed away with a smile, too bright and fake, just like allison’s. “of course,” she says, as though it had been her plan all along.

maybe lydia would ultimately do this on her own but allison knows she’ll be at her side all the way. she won’t abandon her again. the thought steadies her and she returns to drying the plate. “tomorrow?” allison asks, trying to keep her voice calm. part of her thinks it’s too soon.

lydia’s eyes are hard and cold, like steel, a strange contrast to her hands, covered in soap suds. “tomorrow.”

\------------

tomorrow is a saturday. they take lydia’s car – it seems fitting.

lydia’s hands grip the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles turning white. allison glances at them every so often, and then back at the road ahead. she wants to take one of lydia’s hands, squeeze it reassuringly if she can, if it’s possible, but she thinks that’ll be too much of a distraction.

derek lives in an abandoned train depot – most of the time anyway – but, having eavesdropped on a number of her dad’s hunter meetings, she knows peter prefers the comforts of the dilapidated hale house. allison thinks this says a lot about him, none of it good. lydia parks the car outside the house and they approach it slowly.

allison’s heart is beating hard and she tries to slow it down. it doesn’t help, she knows. he probably knows they’re here by now. they would never have had the element of surprise, anyway.

something touches her hand and she almost pulls away, only to look down in time to see lydia reaching for her hand. allison links their fingers automatically and somehow it makes her feel better instantly. beside her, lydia stares the house down. they wait.

a low chuckle comes from the doorway and peter slowly emerges. he leans back against the doorframe and crosses his arms over his chest. “hello, lydia,” he says, his voice clear but soft somehow, almost kind. he doesn’t look at allison.

lydia’s grip on allison’s hand tightens. “peter,” she says. her voice is not kind but it’s almost as soft.

peter seems almost amused by them. he straightens and comes down the steps towards them, slowly, one step after the other. he never takes his eyes off them and allison watches him closely. she knows he’s fast and strong, faster and stronger than she is, than they are. and he knows it, she can see it in his eyes, and in his smirk. he thinks he’s already won.

won what, she doesn’t know. she somehow knows he won’t kill lydia, for purely sentimental reasons perhaps. but she can tell he won’t hesitate in killing her.

he circles them, his shoes crunching over dry grass. when he’s behind them, near the car, neither of them turn to look, although allison wants to. lydia looks straight ahead, as though he’s still on the porch steps. when he laugh softly behind them – allison closes her eyes, can hear him smoothing his hand over lydia’s car – it’s clear he’s toying with them. lydia’s whole body tenses at the sound but she doesn’t turn around.

“i’ve been watching you,” peter says calmly, as though they’re workmates having a casual conversation about the weather. “it’s cute what you’ve been doing.” allison can hear the smile on his voice, knows it’s all teeth. “but it won’t work.”

“oh?” lydia says. she doesn’t sound surprised by the information, that he’s been watching them, and allison wonders if she could feel his gaze at her back when they were out shopping. it explains some things, like the way her voice would get louder sometimes, for no apparent reason. lydia’s voice trembles ever so slightly as she continues, “how do you know?”

“because you’re too slow, too weak,” peter replies in that same tone, like he’s telling them it’ll be cloudy with a chance of rain later. his voice is closer now, right behind them, his breath on their necks.

“no,” allison says calmly. she feels like she’s floating, like she’s not really there. as though from far away she hears herself say, “you’re wrong.”

there’s a puff of air against her neck. he’s laughing. she amuses him. “oh, but you are,” he says, and he trails a finger down the back of her neck. “and you know it.”

lydia elbows him in the stomach. most of his attention on allison, expecting some sort of resistance from her, he’s taken by surprise for a second—only a second, but it’s enough time for lydia, who’d dropped allison’s hand and spent the time allison and peter had talked to slip a knife out of her wrist sheath and into her hand. she shoves the knife back, into his belly. not once does she look away from the porch steps.

he gurgles, blood gushing from the wound, spreading over her hands and onto her clothes. allison tries not to move as blood spurts onto the back of her shirt but she’s shaking, so is lydia, she can tell, she’s trembling beside her.

peter grabs her wrist as lydia twists the knife in deeper. he’s smiling like this is all a game but it’s not, it’s not. allison grips her knife, one of many, and turns to plunge it into his neck in one swift movement,  blinking as blood sprays against her face. he grabs for her this time and lydia, facing him now, presses in closer dragging the knife up until it hits a rib. peter stares at her, eyes wide, like he can’t believe this is happening. his mouth opens like he’s about to ask  _how_ it’s happening, as though lydia will take time out from killing him to politely answer his question. allison twists her knife in deeper and he gurgles, blood dripping down his chin.

she sees the light leave his eyes and pulls her knife out. she feels lydia leave her side and peter’s body drops down at her feet. staring down at it, unable to tear her gaze away, she hears lydia vomit into the grass.

allison’s shaking, the knife in her hand slippery with blood, but she knows it’s not over. she closes her eyes, trying to block out images of another time when she’d shot arrow after arrow into the bodies of two fellow students, and then she feels lydia come to stand beside her. “do you want me to...” she can’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

lydia shakes her head. “no,” she says. “i-i’ll do it.”

she kneels down beside peter’s body and pushes his hair out of his face, almost gentle. as lydia grips a knife in both hands, allison closes her eyes and stumbles away. her hand resting on a tree to keep her upright, she vomits into the bushes.

when she comes back, lydia looks up, her eyes wet with tears that haven’t shed. allison doesn’t look at peter’s body. instead, she reaches a hand out and lydia takes it. both of their hands are slippery with blood but allison doesn’t care, she just pulls lydia to her feet and into a hug. she buries her face in lydia’s hair, against her neck, and breathes her in. she tries not to smell the blood but it’s too thick in the air, too much of it covers them. lydia wraps her arms tight around her, squeezing until allison squeaks.

“thank you,” lydia whispers and allison can feel her wet cheeks against her hair, her neck.

“you’re welcome,” allison says, “but let’s never do that again.”

“agreed,” lydia replies immediately.

allison drives lydia home – she’s not up to driving, not with the way she’s still shaking, and her house is the empty, her mother away at a conference, allison would rather not have to answer questions from her dad about why they’re covered in blood. lydia holds her hand all the way through the house until they reach the bathroom. there she drops it and closes the door gently behind her. allison hears her crying and her heart aches – she wants to help, somehow, but there’s nothing she can do now. just wait and be patient and be there.

that’s all she can do.

\-------------

when her dad ushers lydia into her room, leaving the door ajar as he leaves, allison should feel surprised. she doesn’t. it’s weird. she doesn’t like feeling – or not feeling, in this case – things she doesn’t expect. she doesn’t frown or smile – in truth, she doesn’t know how to act, or what to do. this is the first time they’ve seen each other since they killed peter hale together. it’s bound to feel weird.

that thought helps, some. but not much.

lydia’s the first one to speak. she clears her throat. “may i sit?” she asks, gesturing at the bed. allison’s lying on it, back to the headrest, a pad and pencil in her hands. allison frowns and then she nods quickly and sits up, folding her legs underneath her. lydia sits on the edge of the bed, playing with the threads in the multicoloured blanket beneath her. allison watches her glance around the room and absently taps her pencil against her knee.

“megan fox is back,” lydia observes.

when allison frowns and makes an inquiring noise, lydia points to the poster on the wall just past the window. “ah,” allison says. “um, yes.”

she has no idea what possessed her to put it back up. after she had returned from lydia’s – she had to take the bus and then walk a block, in the cold, her hair damp against her neck but at least she could pretend she was shaking from the cold – she’d grabbed the box from underneath her bed and rummaged through it, searching for the poster. somehow pinning the poster to the wall had made her feel better, like she could breathe again, gulped air til she was calm. megan fox had gazed down at her breathless, red face and given her usual sultry look. and somehow everything had been right with the world. for a little while at least.

“how are you?” allison asks, blurting the question out and immediately regretting it.

lydia’s silent for a long time. her brow furrows in a frown, her mouth turns down at the corners, and then she stares at the bed cover for a long time. “okay, i think,” lydia says eventually. she sounds surprised and allison can’t blame her. “for now, at least.”

“okay,” allison says and gives her a tentative smile.

after a moment, lydia smiles back. it’s slow, oh so slow, but it reaches her eyes and they crinkle at the corners. “i think this might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” she says, slowly, amused.

allison has never liked casablanca, it’s not a lie and she’s done feeling guilty. she rolls her eyes. “misandry for life,” she says, deadpan, but her mouth twitches and when lydia gives her a  _look_ , she grins.

“so mean,” lydia mutters but she’s still smiling. and then her lips tremble, the smile dropping away, and her eyes fill with tears that immediately spill down her cheeks. she doesn’t try to stop them but she does turn away, like she’s ashamed allison’s seen them. and allison sits there, stunned, as lydia cries on the edge of her bed.

allison shakes herself and drops her pad and pencil on the bed. between one moment and the next – it’s kind of awkward, actually, that moment, she scrambles across the bed and almost falls off, surprising a wet laugh out of lydia, and then she’s throwing her arm around lydia’s shoulders and pulling her close. lydia rubs her face against allison’s shoulder, moving the strap of her tank top with her nose. she sniffs loudly and wipes the back of her hand over her nose.

“okay, i think i’m done,” she says, obviously trying to be firm with herself but then her voice wobbles and a fresh wave of tears hits her. she wraps her arms around allison and holds on tight. allison can feel the snot on her skin as lydia rubs her face against her neck but she doesn’t care at all, she just grabs her and holds her and tries not to let go, tries not to let her down again.

“allison, is lydia staying for dinner?” her dad calls from downstairs.

lydia sniffles as she rests her head on allison’s shoulder. “do you want me to?” she asks quietly.

allison stares off into the distance. “you shouldn’t, it’ll be awkward,” she replies, already thinking with a wince of those two awkward dinners with scott. “he’ll ask invasive question, he’ll stare at you like this—” she stares down at lydia and tries to imitate the particular glare-slash-frown but it’s not like she’s a grizzled hunter of middle years, with added stumble, it sort of comes off a bit flat and lydia almost smiles again – “and, if you’re lucky, he  _might_  tell you the riveting story about the rapid dog, or because you know about werewolves and he’s nothing if not predictable, the sad story with the  _sigh_ ,” she puts a hand to her chest and bows her head, “inevitable ending where his best friend becomes a werewolf and he has to shoot him.”

part of her realises this is how he treats her boyfriends – he obviously might treat her friends differently. or, who knows, he’s surprised her before – it occurs to allison to wonder what he thought she and lydia were doing when lydia would come over for training, especially when lydia would leave the room red in the face and breathless a lot of the time. blushing and trying to turn her thoughts to other, safer places, she looks down at lydia, to see if what she’d said has put her off, but she’s just staring off into space, absently biting her lip and frowning. “let him try me,” lydia says eventually, and there’s a look in her eyes when she glances up that makes allison shiver. “i give as good as i get.”

allison still asks, “are you sure?” just in case.

lydia rolls her eyes and sits up, pulling away from allison. “if your occasionally terrible taste in clothes – i  _know_  you’ve kept that jacket i told you to burn – hasn’t turned me off, i doubt your dad will.”

“that jacket has sentimental value!” allison insists, her cheeks turning red. it doesn’t, she just likes it.

lydia eyes her for a second and then she shakes her head, like she can’t deal with that right now. “and, anyway, if he starts to get too intimidating – doubtful, but if he does, i can just flutter my eyelashes at him and flirt with him for a bit.”

“gross, he’s my dad,” allison says, not even making an attempt to hide how disgusted she is at the suggestion.

lydia rolls her eyes. “i didn’t say  _you_  had to flirt with him.”

allison shakes her head. “still gross.”

“i guess i’ll have to take one for the team,” lydia says with a sigh, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. “pray for my soul!”

“it’s beyond saving,” allison retorts but her mouth quivers and, well, there’s no use hiding it. she grins at lydia, her heart doing a particularly daring backflip when lydia smiles back.

the dinner is not as awkward as allison thought it would be. her face clean of tears, the only signs she’d been crying her rosy pink cheeks and a slight redness around the eyes, lydia deflects allison’s dad’s questions as easily as she can now deflect kicks and knife blows. somehow they end up on safer topics like the weather or how school starts again in two weeks time. for a moment, her dad looks slightly dumbfounded as he stares at lydia, chatting away about a variety of subjects – how she’s looking forward to the new chemistry teacher, for all that she never really had any problems with mr. harris, or the new designer jeans she’s thinking about buying – and the corner of his mouth twitches up in a half smile. allison thinks he might actually be impressed.

lydia glances across the table and winks at her before resuming her conversation with dad. allison feels all warm inside, a small blush rising in her cheeks, and she ducks her head, giving her full attention to her food. she’s not aware of her dad’s brief glance at her as she eats without picking at her food, the first time she hasn’t done it in months, not that she’s aware of that either. it doesn’t break the flow of conversation over her head so she only looks up at them when she finishes. lydia’s just laying her fork down with a sigh, and allison’s dad is already collecting their plates to take into the kitchen.

“i guess i better get going,” lydia says eventually, fiddling with the edge of the tablecloth. she stands up and heads out of the room, for the front door. allison follows her, frowning.

“you don’t have to leave,” allison tells her when she catches up with her. lydia’s hand is on the doorknob but allison’s words make her pause.

she turns, dropping her hand from doorknob, and smiles at allison. “i wish i could,” she says, and there’s a wistful sound to her voice that tells allison she’s telling the truth, “but mom’s back from her conference and she worries.”

“okay.” allison tries not to sound too disappointed – she can’t help but let a little slip into her voice but it’s best lydia’s not aware of the extent of her disappointment, at least not yet.

lydia sighs and reaches out to place a hand on allison’s arm. allison stares down at it and then up at lydia, opening her mouth to ask a question, and then lydia’s close enough that allison’s breath catches. lydia kisses her cheek, briefly, a mere press of lips and then she pulls back but allison’s cheek tingles and she feels like it’s still happening. without meaning to, she reaches up a hand to touch the spot, acutely aware of how loud she’s breathing and lydia’s face inches from her own.

lydia seems almost surprised at herself, and she steps away like she’s done something wrong. allison shakes her head quickly, although at what, she’s not exactly sure – to shake her brain into thinking, or to decry the sudden distance between them, or to deny the question in lydia’s eyes, or all of the above. nothing’s wrong, she wants to say, in fact, everything feels right for the first time in a long time. and she wants to lean forward and kiss lydia on the cheek too. she doesn’t do the first one – it seems too telling, somehow – but she does gather enough courage to press her lips to lydia’s cheek, her nose bumping awkwardly under her eye. lydia gasps, a small sound against her ear, and then allison pulls away quickly because she feels like maybe she lingered and maybe that’s overstepping.

lydia’s hand is still on her arm. she straightens the strap of allison’s tank top absently, pushing it back up her shoulder from where it’d slipped at some point. allison shivers and hopes it isn’t too noticeable.

“see you tomorrow?” lydia asks, and there’s a smile in her eyes if not on her mouth.

allison blinks, both corners of her mouth rising in an involuntary smile. “okay.” she feels giddy, like she could start laughing at any moment, and she’s not sure she does a very a good job of hiding it.

“we need to buy you a new wardrobe for school,” lydia tells her, firmly, and the laugh that had been bubbling up escapes allison as a giggle. “we do!” lydia insists, trying to be serious, but the smile has reached her mouth and she’s grinning just as helplessly as allison is.

when allison closes the door behind her, she turns and finds her dad leaning against the stair rail. he raises an eyebrow and she glares at him defensively. “not a word,” she warns as she heads toward the kitchen where the dishes await them. “not one word.”

she supposes quiet laughter and a shake of his head don’t exactly constitute words but she glares at him all the same. her annoyance is only surface deep, really, it can’t distract her from the giddy feeling or the way she can’t stop smiling, not that she wants to.

she’s seeing lydia tomorrow. and they’ll go shopping, and lydia will sneer at the other customers and exchange snarky remarks with the shop assistant, and allison will try not to stare at her too much. that’s going to be hard, she thinks, not that she minds.

\-------------

the rest of the summer passes by in a blur of shopping trips and sleepovers – part of allison thinks lydia’s trying to do as much as possible so she can erase the memory of what they did, and sometimes she watches lydia’s smile fade into a frown and her eyes turn cold, but it becomes rarer as the days pass, as she realises he’s gone and he’s never coming back, not this time. allison doesn’t try to distract her whenever it happens, she just sits and waits – lydia comes back to her eventually.

and then suddenly it’s the first day of junior year and allison finds a note from scott on her windowsill, accompanied by a small, square black box. the note says  _because i love you_ and she sighs. they’d had the conversation two days ago – she’s sure he knows about her feelings for lydia, even though she barely mentioned her (she thinks, she’s not too sure about that), and she made it clear they wouldn’t getting back together, at least not for now. allison has learned recently that it’s better not to plan for the future too much, it has a way of changing completely.

she eyes the box and opens it because she’s curious. it contains a pair of earrings, nothing like she usually wears. they’re more like—she grabs the note again and turns it around.

on the other side, it reads  _for lydia_.

allison spends five minutes staring at it, grinning and grinning. her cheeks start to hurt but she can’t stop. eventually, glancing at the picture of her and lydia she’d placed on her desk, right beside the one with her mom, she remembers to shove the note and box into the pocket of her jacket. she’s still grinning as she leaves the house. her grin softens into a smile when she sees lydia’s car in the driveway.

lydia rolls down the window as allison approaches. “since it’s the first day of school, i thought i’d give you a ride,” she says, like she’s doing allison a big favour.

“i have my own car,” allison reminds her, rolling her eyes, but she’s already opening the passenger side door and hopping into the car.

lydia sniffs. “mine’s better.”

in chemistry, the new teacher makes them lab partners and they grin at each other, sharing in a private joke. they don’t share their next two classes and allison spends the time with her hands shoved in her jacket pockets, fingers gliding over the box and the note, as she stares blankly at the board and the teacher’s face. her heart is beating too fast and she can feel scott’s eyes on her, and jackson’s, and stiles’ probably too, but she’s too wired to think about them right now.

time passes slowly like it has a personal vendetta against her. she hadn’t planned for it to go like this – if she’s honest with herself, she hadn’t planned to do a thing. she’d be tiptoeing around the issue years later if not for scott’s well-meaning gift. she wants to stand up in the middle of this class and kiss him but that would probably send the wrong message. not to him, he’d know why, he’d grin against her mouth and whisper  _good luck_ but the rest of the school was another story. by lunch, lydia would be under the mistaken impression that allison was back with scott.

better that she stay in her seat and watch the clock like a hawk.

finally,  _finally_ , the bell rings and allison’s the first one out the door. the corridor is packed and she elbows her way through, earning a few sour looks from people she might have hit too hard because they weren’t moving fast enough. she arrives to find the cafeteria is full of people. craning her neck over the crowd, she spies lydia sitting down next to danny. she hesitates for a second and then, with a sigh, she heads toward the lunch line. it’s probably best she doesn’t appear too eager.

carrying her tray in both hands – when she looks down, she realises she’s got a lot of chicken and not much else – she makes a beeline for lydia and reaches the table just before stiles, sliding in next to her and giving stiles a smug look. lydia turns and smiles at her – that goofy smile, where her eyes are soft, the one allison thinks is just for her – and allison returns the smile with an equally goofy one.

her hand is in her pocket and then it’s not, it’s out in the open, offering lydia the small, black box.

lydia raises an eyebrow. “i think it’s too soon for marriage, allison,” she says but there’s an odd sound to her voice. she’s not smiling now, but she could be, soon.

allison looks up at the cafeteria ceiling as though asking for patience. “lydia, will you be my girlfriend?” she asks slowly, and maybe her voice trembles on the last word, and maybe she has to force herself to look lydia in the eye, and maybe as the silence stretches on – from their table and out to the rest of the cafeteria – she gets more nervous and tries not to squirm in her seat.

lydia opens her mouth but no words come out. instead she takes the box from allison’s hands and opens it. its contents make her freeze, eyes wide with surprise. she glares suspiciously at scott, who’s sitting on the other side of the table and the only one in the cafeteria who’s still eating. he blinks at her, innocently.

“you didn’t buy these,” lydia tells allison like she already knows the answer.

“no,” allison says, already feeling a sinking in the pit of her stomach. “scott did.”

“i knew it!” lydia shouts triumphantly and then she’s throwing the box in scott’s direction – he scrambles to catch it but allison’s too surprised to notice because lydia leans in close until their noses touch.

“is that a yes?” allison asks, just in case, just to be sure.

lydia nods, her face solemn. “yes, it’s a yes,” she says, and then she’s smiling that goofy smile again, and allison can’t help but return it as she cups lydia’s face in her hands. lydia’s still smiling as allison kisses her – there’s a noise like a cheer, abruptly cut short – and then they part – a collective groan, again cut short – and allison feels sad that it was so short, their first kiss.

lydia stands up and grabs her hand, tugging her past silent tables of ogling teenagers and out of the cafeteria. as the doors swing shut behind her, lydia hesitates and allison bumps into her, not prepared for the sudden stop. she breathes in the scent of lydia’s shampoo – strawberries and cream – and then lydia’s dragging her down the corridor until they reach a door to what appears to be an empty classroom.

allison’s practically shoved into the room, stumbles and almost falls against a desk, and she turns to give lydia a stern word or three about how she can’t push allison around just because they’re girlfriends now. the words die on her lips as she takes in lydia, leaning against the door. her cheeks are pink, turning slowly red, and her green eyes are fixed on allison’s face. she’s biting her lip, sucking it into her mouth and then pushing it out.

they both take a step forward and then, somehow, suddenly, they’re so close they’re breathing each other’s air but not kissing, not yet. allison whimpers, impatient, and then lydia’s mouth is on hers, deepening the kiss almost immediately, almost too fast, and they bump noses. lydia laughs softly and then they’re kissing again, not too fast this time, slow, so slow, too slow and allison has her arms around lydia’s waist, shaking, wondering if there’s any middle ground. allison opens her mouth – to say something, anything, she can’t think of the words, her head’s a mess – and lydia licks her way inside, kisses like she means it.

allison starts to pull away, and there was a reason but she forgets it when lydia says, “no,” firmly and kisses her again. “more kissing, that’s our motto,” she says, her voice muffled against allison’s mouth.

allison laughs and—that’s what she was going to do! grinning, she picks her up, ignoring lydia’s squeak of surprise, and sits her on a nearby desk. “good idea,” lydia purrs, wrapping her legs around allison’s waist.

“i thought you’d appreciate it,” allison says, amused. pulling away just as lydia’s about to kiss her again, she asks, “wasn't our motto misandry for life?”

lydia tangles her fingers in allison’s hair and brings her face close. “that was then, this is now,” she murmurs against allison’s mouth. allison sighs, okay, and then lydia’s kissing her again.

and they’re still kissing by the time the bell rings for their next class. not that they notice. or care.


End file.
